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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron...

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron (DRI) and pellet plant. This ‘green steel’ project, part of LMEL’s push for an integrated steel complex in the region, is functioning not just as an industrial unit but as a crucial pillar in the Maharashtra government’s surrender-cum-rehabilitation policy. So far, LMEL, in coordination with the state government and the Gadchiroli Police, has provided employment and training to 68 surrendered Maoists and 14 members of families affected by Naxal violence, a total of 82 individuals, offering them a definitive pathway back to the mainstream. The Shift The transformation begins at the company’s dedicated Lloyds Skill Development and Training Centre at Konsari. Recognizing that many former cadres had limited formal education, the company implements a structured, skill-based rehabilitation model. They are trained in essential technical and operational skills required for plant administration, civil construction, and mechanical operations. For individuals like Govinda Atala, a former deputy commander, the change is palpable. “After surrendering, I got the right to live a new life,” Atala said. “I am very happy to get this job. I am now living my life on my own; there is no pressure on me now.” Suresh Hichame, who spent over a decade in the movement before surrendering in 2009 too echoed the sentiments. He realized the path of violence offered neither him nor his family any benefit. Moreover, his self-respecct was hurt. He knew several languages and carried out several crucial tasks for the banned organization remaining constantly under the shadow of death. Today, he works in the plant, receiving a steady monthly salary that enables him to care for his family—a basic dignity the ‘Red Ideology’ could never provide. The monthly salaries of the rehabilitated workers, typically ranging from Rs 13,000 to Rs 20,000, are revolutionary in a region long characterized by poverty and lack of opportunities. Trust, Stability The employment of former Maoists is a brave and calculated risk for LMEL, an industry that historically faced stiff opposition and even violence from the left wing extremist groups. LMEL’s management, however, sees it as an investment in inclusive growth and long-term stability for the district. The LMEL has emphasized the company’s commitment to training and facilitating career growth for the local populace, including the surrendered cadres. This commitment to local workforce upskilling is proving to be a highly effective counter-insurgency strategy, chipping away at the foundation of the Maoist movement: the exploitation of local grievances and lack of economic options. The reintegration effort extends beyond the factory floor. By providing stable incomes and a sense of purpose, LMEL helps the former rebels navigate the social transition. They are now homeowners, taxpayers, and active members of the community, replacing the identity of an outlaw with that of a respected employee. This social acceptance, coupled with economic independence, is the true measure of rehabilitation. The successful employment of cadres, some of whom were once high-ranking commanders, also sends a powerful message to those still active in the jungle: the path to a peaceful and prosperous life is open and tangible. It transforms the promise of government rehabilitation into a concrete reality. The plant, with its production of iron ore and steel, is physically transforming the region into an emerging industrial hub, and in doing so, it is symbolically forging the nation’s progress out of the ashes of extremism. The coordinated effort between private industry, the state government, and the Gadchiroli police is establishing a new environment of trust, stability, and economic progress, marking Gadchiroli’s transition from a Maoist hotbed to a model of inclusive and sustainable development.

Unholy Pedestal

Lalu Prasad’s disrespect for Dr. B.R. Ambedkar unmasks his hollow legacy.

Bihar
Bihar

A video clip has triggered outrage across Bihar. In it, Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) chief Lalu Prasad Yadav is seen lounging on a sofa as a supporter places a framed portrait of B.R. Ambedkar - India’s foremost Dalit icon - at his feet during the former chief minister’s birthday celebration. The image, appearing almost as an offering, stayed there while Lalu sat motionless.


The symbolism was unmistakable and the backlash swift. Within hours, The BJP and ruling Janata Dal (United) slammed him for insulting the architect of the Constitution. The State Commission for Scheduled Castes issued a notice to the RJD patriarch, but no apology has been forthcoming from the latter.


Instead, his son and heir, Tejashwi Yadav, dismissed the furore as a BJP fabrication. That defence, delivered with characteristic entitlement, speaks volumes not just about the family’s casual irreverence, but about the cynical decay of a political movement once built on the promise of social justice.


This is not the first time Lalu has shown contempt for the very ideals he claims to uphold. The incident may appear small, but is rich in symbolism. Ambedkar, born into untouchability, gave India its Constitution and generations of Dalits the courage to stand tall. To place his portrait at anyone’s feet (least of all a man who rode to power on Ambedkarite slogans) is grotesque.


And yet, grotesque fits Lalu’s brand of politics. Once hailed as the champion of the backward classes, he now presides over a decaying dynasty that cloaks nepotism in the language of empowerment. Rabri Devi, his wife, was plucked from obscurity to become chief minister. Tejashwi, the son, is projected as chief minister-in-waiting. One daughter is in the Rajya Sabha; another is fielded in the Lok Sabha. Lalu’s politics is not about public service but about family service. The RJD, in practice, resembles a princely estate than a modern political party.


The moral bankruptcy extends beyond family rule. Lalu’s much-vaunted ‘social justice’ has done little to improve Bihar’s fortunes. The state remains one of India’s poorest, with dismal health, education, and employment indicators. The Mandal-era rhetoric he mastered has long since fossilised into vote-bank arithmetic.


What makes the Ambedkar insult particularly galling is Lalu’s long history of invoking the Dalit leader’s name to sanctify his own rule. But Ambedkar stood for constitutional morality, meritocracy and intellectual rigour. Lalu’s career has instead been defined by cronyism, corruption and theatrical populism. He projects himself as a messiah of the oppressed but behaves like a monarch of the entitled.


His one-time comrades Nitish Kumar and the late George Fernandes eventually severed ties with him precisely because of this arrogance and his authoritarianism. The same arrogance is now on full display. The RJD could have apologised swiftly and sincerely. Instead, it chose to stonewall. Is it counting on Bihar’s electorate would overlook the insult or forget it altogether? That would be a grave miscalculation, especially with the Assembly polls looming.


The BJP, of course, is seizing the moment, eager to paint Lalu as a hypocrite and the RJD as anti-Dalit. But political opportunism doesn’t make the charge any less true. The RJP that once sought to unite the backwards and oppressed under a common banner now finds itself exposed: its leader indifferent, its heirs evasive and its ideology hollowed out.


Ambedkar once warned against hero-worship, particularly in politics. He said there was nothing wrong in being grateful to great men who have rendered life-long services but that there were limits to gratefulness. The RJD would do well to heed those words. Reverence cannot be inherited. It must be earned. And if lost, cannot be reclaimed with birthday parties and defensive press releases.


Lalu Prasad may have built his legend on the backs of the oppressed. But in the twilight of his political life, it is clear he no longer lifts them. He only stands on them.

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